


one last picnic

by justalittlegreen



Category: MASH (TV)
Genre: AU, Fucking, Kissing, M/M, Smut, Soft Trap, Some angst, Welcome to Korea, bottom hawkeye, fixit, just a glimpse of beej, re-do, s4e1
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-14
Updated: 2020-06-14
Packaged: 2021-03-04 00:34:49
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,053
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24724627
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/justalittlegreen/pseuds/justalittlegreen
Summary: We answer the age old question: what if Hawkeye had gotten back in time to say goodbye to Trapper?
Relationships: "Trapper" John McIntyre/Benjamin Franklin "Hawkeye" Pierce, Frank Burns/Margaret "Hot Lips" Houlihan
Comments: 12
Kudos: 57





	one last picnic

**Author's Note:**

  * For [QueerOnTilMorning](https://archiveofourown.org/users/QueerOnTilMorning/gifts).



Radar sighs with relief as Hawkeye screeches into camp, nearly falling out of the Jeep as he parks dangerously close to the mess tent trash. Trapper is in surgery, but Hawkeye's in no shape to join him. He blathers drunkenly as Radar deftly grabs his bag, swings Hawkeye's long, loose arm over his shoulder and drags him back to the swamp. Hawkeye falls face first into his cot after saying something ridiculous about Radar being the family pet, and immediately starts to snore.

Radar slips into the OR changing room, a place he never goes, but today, he needs to catch Trapper as soon as possible. Luckily, McIntyre is the first one out, nodding Radar a grim hello as he starts to wash his hands.

"He's back, sir," Radar says quietly, and Trapper's face lights up. He hurriedly strips off his mask and scrubs, throws his jacket over a shoulder and runs out of there so fast Radar can't suppress a smile. It would've been terrible if Hawkeye had missed him - they really had been trying to call for days. 

Before he can make himself scares, Major Houlihan comes through the swinging door and aims a halfhearted swipe at him, with a scolding about spying. Radar stumbles through an apology, not sure why he's sticking around, except for maybe, somewhere in his head, he thinks maybe he should stall her. By the time Major Burns follows, she's shouting at him, and demands that Frank take him to the office to write him up for insubordination. Now it makes sense.

As he follows the Majors across the compound, head hanging with appropriate contrition, he calculates exactly how much Hawkeye's going to owe him for this one. Not that he'll ever collect on it.

*

Trapper bursts through the Swamp door, nearly knocking it off its hinges and latching it behind him, to give them some time once Frank inevitably shows up. He looks at Hawkeye, a messy sprawl half-off his cot, with an almost tearful affection. What if he hadn't made it? What if he'd had to go without - ? He shakes the thought from his head, then bends over to clasp Hawkeye's shoulder.

Hawkeye rolls over, muttering, "Radar, I told you, you're going to have to walk yourself if you need - oh, it's you," he finishes, rolling back over.

"Hawk," Trapper says urgently. "Hawk, you gotta wake up."

"Why?" Hawkeye mumbles into his pillow.

"Hawk, I got my papers."

"Congratulations. Lend me some the next time I go to the latrine."

"No, Hawk." Trapper gives him a little slap on the shoulder. "My _discharge_ papers."

Hawkeye goes still, then suddenly rolls over and sits up, his eyes bleary but alarmed. "No," he says, more in disbelief than out of objection. "Home?" 

Trapper nods. "I'm shipping out of Kimpo in four hours."

"Four hours!" Hawkeye yelps. "That doesn't give us much time for a party. We've got to get music, drinks - " he casts a wild glance at the still. Trapper tightens his grip.

"Hawk, the party was last night," he says calmly. "Don't worry, I've been very properly feted." 

Hawkeye, for once, slows down. He nods, dropping his head in his hands. "I wish I was in better shape for a proper goodbye," he says.

"Well," Trapper says. "I've got three bottles of water, some sludge that passes for coffee, an aspirin, and a few hours. Think you can pull it together in time for one more picnic?"

Hawkeye snorts at the euphemism. "Yeah. Yeah, I can. Just - give me a minute."

*

After an hour of intense hydration, a much-needed shower, and some time for the aspirin to kick in, Hawkeye returns to the Swamp in his bathrobe to find a fork on his cot and smiles. A set of pilfered silverware - hardly noticeable among the Swamp's usual collection of detritus - slipped into their bedsheets allowed them to communicate where and when to meet, and what to be prepared for. The fork, its tines pointed west, indicate that Hawkeye should head for their spot past the edge of the minefield, and to bring the maximal number of supplies.

Hawkeye pulls a canvas bag out of his footlocker, feels around in it for the fistful of rubbers and the tube of surgical lube - still half-full, at least - and bolts west.

Trapper is exactly where he expects, on a set of blankets rolled out under a rocky outcrop, a sheltered little spot out of earshot that they're stunned no one else has ever found. Trapper's lying on his back, hands pillowed under his head, eyes closed, and Hawkeye takes a moment to look him over. He can't believe Trap's leaving. How in the hell is he going to survive this place without him?

His breathing must give him away because Trapper opens his eyes and smiles slowly, his overbite so painfully cute it makes Hawkeye's eyes water. "Hey, honey," Trapper says, letting the sweetname linger between them - a generous moment, so much the gift HAwkeye needs to tuck into his back pocket for every lonely moment thereafter. "C'mon down here with me."

Hawkeye props himself up on his elbow, facing John, and leans in for a kiss. Trapper indulges him in ways he usually doesn't, kissing him long and slow, his teeth grazing Hawkeye's bottom lip. Hawkeye sighs into his mouth, working a hand into Trapper's hair, worrying the curls in his fingers. Trapper shifts his weight, and Hawkeye rolls with him, on to his back, letting Trapper work a thigh between his, canting his hips up to grind - fuck, he's going to miss him. He's never fit with anyone else so well.

He forces himself to go slow, take his time, fingers running down Trapper's back, pulling at the spot where his shirt is tucked in. Trapper pauses, holds himself aloft for a second. 

"You sure?" he asks. His voice is more full of emotion than his face lets on, fading into a whisper. 

"Yeah," Hawkeye whispers back. Hell, they haven't been caught yet. And it's not like Frank's smart enough to go looking.

Trapper strips his shirt off, unbuckles his pants, and climbs off Hawkeye so he can do the same. Hawkeye reaches for him, pulls him close enough for their dog tags to rattle against each other. 

"Hey," he says. "I have an idea."

"Mmm?" Trapper bends to suck a bruise low on Hawkeye's neck. Hawkeye shudders and gasps, clinging to Trapper's back, wanting him to do it again, wanting Trapper to mark him all over, wanting to send him home with a matching set. He knows he can't, of course, but he'll wear the evidence of Trapper's teeth for as long as he can. He lingers in the sensation, feeling the heat through his body, whimpering as quietly as his desire will let him as John creates a map of blooming bruises across his chest and down his ribs. His idea can wait.

When Trapper finally works his way down past his hips, grabbing Hawkeye's unbuckled waistband and sliding his pants and shorts over his hips, Hawkeye practically squirms with need. They've never done this - like this - before, naked, outside, but he wants it more than anything, needs to feel John inside him one last time. He tosses John the bag of supplies, throwing an arm over his eyes as John makes quick work of them, pulling his knees up to his chest.

Trapper slides a gloved and slicked-up finger inside him, and Hawkeye can't suppress a groan. He's still a little sore from an encounter with a particularly well-endowed sailor on this most recent R&R, but that just makes him all the hungrier to feel Trapper inside him - the one who belongs there, he thinks, unable to suppress the thought as it emerges.

Trapper opens him expertly, with smooth, practiced movements honed over the last nearly-a-year of frantic grabs, liaisons in Supply, and two all-too-brief stints on R&R in Tokyo and Seoul. By the time he finally bends over Hawkeye, pushing in slowly, agonizingly slowly, as Hawk clambers to wrap his legs around his hips, he's out of his mind with need. John bends over and kisses him, gentle and deep, until he bottoms out. 

Hawkeye can't stand waiting, pushes his hips up in a desperate attempt to speed things along, but Trapper holds him down, insisting on slow, on smooth, on a pace that finally breaks Hawkeye open into the tears he's been holding back since John said "Papers." He ducks his head to the side, embarrassed, but unable to hide them in any meaningful way, until he feels something fall on his cheek, and looks up to find Trapper sniffling, too. Hawkeye gathers Trap into his arms, lets the weight of him sink against his chest, burly and solid, the fuck forgotten for a moment as they hold each other through it, acknowledging the loss.

Finally, Trapper checks his watch; they don't have much more time. He reaches between them, finds Hawkeye still mostly hard, and begins to stroke. Hawkeye closes his eyes, mouth open, all gasp and flutter as John's hand brings him closer to the edge; he clenches hard, and Trapper's hand stutters as he feels it, swearing under his breath. 

"Gonna break me," he mutters, smiling again as Hawkeye moans, bringing a hand back to Trapper's hair to tug. 

"Good," Hawk gasps as Trapper gives his hips a tiny, monumental thrust, "then I get to keep you."

He barely gets the words out before he's coming apart in Trapper's hand, and Trapper following just a few moments later, panting, sweat breaking over both of them. Trapper slides out with a groan and Hawkeye whimpers at the loss, even as he's grateful to bring his knees down and relax his hips. 

They get ten more minutes - ten all-too-short minutes they spend kissing, memorizing each other, leaving behind as much as they can for the other to carry.

"Hey," Trapper says as they're putting their clothes back on and lacing their boots. "What was the idea you had?"

Hawkeye blushes and ducks his head. "Oh - no, naw, it was nothing." 

Trapper raises an eyebrow. "You sure?"

Hawkeye waves him off. "I had this idea but it was stupid."

"Try me."

Hawkeye recognizes a note of persistence and gives in. "Fine. I was, uh, I was gonna say - give me one of your dog tags and I'll give you one of mine."

Trapper's smile crinkles his eyes. "Ya mean it?"

"You want to?"

"I was planning on ceremoniously dropping my tags in the ocean somewhere in Honolulu but I could be convinced to hold onto them..." Trap says, leaning back against the stone wall of the cave and lifting his tags over his head. Hawkeye quickly works to finagle the clasp, fails, and simply breaks it. Radar will find him another one. 

"Tsk tsk," Trapper says, having undone the clasp successfully, sliding one tag off and passing it across. "So impatient." Hawkeye does the same, spontaneously kissing the metal before handing it over. Trapper grins and slides it on. "What're you going to do if uh..." he can't bring himself to say what might happen if anyone had reason to _look_ at Hawkeye's dog tags.

Hawkeye shrugs. "Their problem." Trapper nods, holds out a hand. Hawkeye grabs it, and they stand up together.

* 

Hawkeye offers to drive Trapper to Kimpo. Frank refuses, and he goes anyway, stealing the wheel from Radar and dumping him in the back seat, and tearing out of camp as the nurses and enlisted men come out to wave goodbye. On the way down, they don't talk much. Trapper shakes his hand at the airport, and Hawkeye pulls him in for a hug, with a big, manly slap on the back for good measure as Radar looks away.

They wait until Trapper leaves the small building and heads toward the plane. Hawkeye shakes his head and steers Radar away, not wanting to think about planes, and flights, and the fact that there's still a war on. Hawkeye suggests that they get a drink while they wait for the new guy, and before Radar can protest that he's not allowed in the officer's bar, a tall blond soldier in an all-too-crisp uniform walks toward them with his hand out, like he's been expecting them to come.


End file.
